


masks

by PrinceDarcy



Category: Death Note
Genre: Eating Disorders, Gen, Yotsuba Arc, discussed, not graphic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-23
Updated: 2015-09-23
Packaged: 2018-04-23 02:32:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4859699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrinceDarcy/pseuds/PrinceDarcy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was unwelcome at first. In a matter of weeks it was commonplace, seeing each other reduced to their most basic states. Seeing the faces that the rest of the world isn't privy to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	masks

**Author's Note:**

  * For [theadventuresof](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theadventuresof/gifts).
  * Inspired by [hollow](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4807034) by [theadventuresof](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theadventuresof/pseuds/theadventuresof). 



> this is your fault emily

Light relinquishing his freedoms had been the point of the handcuffs, L thought—letting L witness every hour, minute, second of his life, laying his existence bare for the detective to analyze and deconstruct and understand as if that will change the inevitable. It came, at first, as an unwelcome concession that L too found himself lacking his previously so-valued privacy; nothing could be hidden between them in their circumstances, and Light was as observant as he was.

It was unwelcome at first. In a matter of weeks it was commonplace, seeing each other reduced to their most basic states. Seeing the faces that the rest of the world isn't privy to.

Light had marveled at L's natural curls, at the black trails of ink across his skin revealed by the water the first time they showered. At the way the dark bags under his eyes simply washed away. More astounding than Ryuzaki, Light expressed, was the fact that Ryuzaki was entirely deliberate. Not just eccentricities of a recluse detective—but a character, put together piece by painstaking piece.

There was nothing marvelous about Light Yagami in the morning. No—that was wrong. There was always something to marvel at about him, a natural grace to him that L envied, but for how much they were alike, when it came to their public and private faces, Light was his opposite.

L felt nothing like Light's apparent awe the first time they woke up side by side. He saw Light's bony arms and pale complexion and bruise-like dark circles around his eyes and felt a keen, sinking sadness. He could never quite shake himself of it.

L powdered his face a shade paler in the mornings, straightened his thick hair and lets it hang lank and messy in his face, patted foundation over his tattoos, smudged heavy eyeliner under his eyes. Ryuzaki looked strange and almost sickly compared to L in his natural state, entirely deliberately, every choice made to toe the line into the outright bizarre.

Light's mask was a subtle one. It took him half as long to get ready as L did, most days. His hair, at least, seemed to be more obedient, and it rarely took him more than a few minutes to have it looking styled and presentable. He wore makeup, too, a fact which L was sure he'd never tell a soul—but while L made himself up with the expressed purpose of looking unhealthy, Light's purposes couldn't be more different.

Yes, the mask was subtle. Not a character, like Ryuzaki, but a representation of what Light Yagami could be. What Light Yagami was, in the minds of everyone else. Happy. Healthy. Perfect. Foundation a little warmer than his general near-pallor. Concealer perfectly applied under his eyes. L wouldn't have guessed he was wearing it until he saw him without it, which was clearly the point. Light, though he never said anything about it, wouldn't go down to face the rest of the task force without it.

“Could you—” Light's hands were trembling when he held the brush and palette out. Not from nerves or self-consciousness— _how many days has it been since you've eaten?_ L wanted to ask, but he couldn't bring himself to say the words without mentally kicking himself for not paying more attention. Three days, maybe. Three days and not even any caffeine in him to keep his body feeling like it had the fuel to function, not until they got downstairs and Watari brought coffee. “I can't get this to look right.”

L took the brush, pushing Light's bangs out of his face. He looked so tired, eternally tired. The kind of tired sleep wouldn't fix. L wanted to march him downstairs just like that, for a moment—relished at the idea of showing Light _like this_ to his father and tell him to look at him, listen to him, see and understand like he clearly hadn't been doing for far too long.

But he couldn't, but he wouldn't. Because it was his own doing as much as anything, because it wasn't his place, because Light had the right to decide that sort of thing for himself. He didn't exactly choose to show his unmasked self to L, but he wouldn't yet deny him the right to keep the mask on for everyone else.

It would be hypocritical to deny him that.

L's movements were delicate, precise, hands like an artist's as he brushed on foundation, blending out each stroke. He could see, with each movement of the brush, the Light he'd so long been accustomed to falling into place like a camera racking focus. His complexion more even, almost sun-kissed looking. Darkness gone from under his eyes. More alive.

He set the makeup aside and picked up a comb, gingerly brushing Light's bangs into place and neatening them out. He cupped Light's face with one hand, looking him in the eyes for a long moment.

He didn't kiss him. Theirs was never meant to be that kind of story.

“Sorry,” Light said, turning away and returning everything to its place, _almost_ perfectly neatly. L could hear the little clatter of things on the shelves when Light's shaky hands betrayed him.

“Not at all,” L replied. On the way out, he lead Light by the arm until they were almost down the stairs.

Watari made coffee. Light allowed himself to be enticed by a croissant for breakfast. By the time the rest of the task force joined them, he looked as alert and ready to get on with the day as ever.

It was an unspoken rule that they didn't discuss their mornings once they left the bedroom for the day. L honored it and said nothing.

No one else said anything either, and he supposed that was how Light liked it. Everyone else saw a smile and bright eyes and not much past it. L saw a stuffed toy with something _bleak_ peeking through the seams.

Light started asking L to do his makeup more often, after that.

 


End file.
